


Splatters of Paint And Blood

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Birds, Blood and Gore, Death, M/M, based on a thing my gf painted for me, dave drawing, dave drawing gore, feathers - Freeform, i like writing gore, then actual gore happening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-04 23:32:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4157115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>my gf painted me like bleeding everywhere so now this exists :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Splatters of Paint And Blood

**Author's Note:**

> im gay and like writing about gay dead people
> 
> http://slinkydoodle.tumblr.com/post/121826443538/this-for-a-thing-i-wrote

Dave lay on the floor on his stomach, pencil gliding across the page like magic. Lines intersect and overlap, his sketch quickly being fleshed out into a fledgling. The dark bird's wings seem to drag behind it, though it is stationary. Dave quickly adds something rather, disturbing. He erases a large hole in the crow's chest and pencils in ribs and muscle and flesh, so lifelike it almost scares you. He finishes the drawing by signing it. Dave closes the book and stands up, the beaded braid in his hair swinging forward, the feather landing on his cheek. Dave brushes it away gently. He puts his book on the table and lays next to you, head in your lap. You love watching him draw. Or paint, or ink, or anything really. He's beautiful and graceful and all of his movements are so fluid and unbroken, especially in strife. Or the bedroom. Your tiny boyfriend yawns and stretches, ending up fully over your lap. You rest a hand on his stomach, and he squeaks. His noises and his voice will be your downfall, you swear. You love talking to him, he's weird and eccentric and perfect in every aspect. His body shape, with his girly curves and hips. His wavy white hair he styles in an impossibly perfect manner. His long legs and fingers, tiny hands that intertwine with yours perfectly. 

You look down at him, and gasp in horror. You skate your fingers over the hole in his body, orange skin torn. He squawks at you, pushing your hand away. You look at your palm, covered in warm yellow blood. It glows. His face is contorted in pain. You wrap your arms around him and pull him up to your chest, and squeeze him. His hands find your shoulders and you feel his claws dig into you. The soft feathers between his shoulder blades are soaked in his glowing blood from his torn wing. You grit your teeth when you see the wound on his wing. His wing is torn to shreds, muscle and tissue hanging gently, almost. You can see where the bone splintered and cracked and was torn from his body. You raise a hand to his cheek and pull his face close to yours. You press your lips against his, his feathered hair brushing your forehead. "I'm sorry," you whisper to him. "It's not your fault, Karkat." You close your eyes to keep from crying.

When you open your eyes Dave is wearing a beautiful arterial red tuxedo. It takes you a moment to realize the suit isn't supposed to be red. You choke back a cry and lift your hand away from his bloody chest, glaring down at your palm. Dave's hand brushes away a tear from your cheek that you didn't notice was there. You can tell from his eyes that he's about to go. You lean over, and kiss his forehead, supporting the back of his head. He smiles, whispers "Thank you, Karkat." He has the audacity to thank you while he's dying. Fucking lunatic. You love him. 

Dave pulls you down and kisses you, and you can taste his blood in your mouth. "Fuck, Karkat, I'm dying, I'm gonna die, fuck, fuck, fu-" You kiss him again. "Karkat, I-... I'm scared. I don't want to be alone..." You push his hair out of his eyes. "Dave, I love you. You're not gonna be alone for too long, okay?" He chokes and spits up blood. "I love you too, Kittykat." You smile at the nickname. You feel tears well up in your eyes when you see the life slip from his eyes. He takes on a glassy look, so far void of emotion than his perfect practiced poker face. You kiss his cheek and feel tears fall down your face. You realize you are never going to see that poker face again. You are never going to see any expression in those beautiful crimson eyes again. You're never going to hear his high melodic voice talk to you or sing to you or moan because of you. You're never going to see any of his beautiful movements again. Never going to see his perfect smile. Never going to hold his perfect hands. Never going to see him draw again. Never going to-

Dave kisses you. Your Dave. Real Dave. Alive Dave. You kiss him back so hard that his lips are probably bruised. "I love you." Dave giggles. "I love you too, Karkat."


End file.
